Pages

Saturday, January 29, 2005

the mysterious monday wedding went off without a hitch. to quote jeremy's mother: "I don't think the bride's feet were on the ground once during the ceremony!" it was pretty incredible.

it was great to see old friends all together in waco: robert and hun, billy and renee, paul and jen, genevieve and the pile brothers, jen and celina, wags, etc. etc. etc. i crashed the bachelor party sunday night, so i got a chance to talk to a lot of people that i wouldn't have had time to speak extensively with at the wedding. only one guy criticized me for being a "skirt" and in the wrong place. but when i smartly retorted that i was a groomsmaid, he dropped the subject and i dropped him.

phil's family was there of course, and that was amazing to meet his mom and dad. i recognized them from the pictures and it felt just like home when i introduced myself to them. phil's dad calls erin and i and the rest of phil's friends "the brat pack." phil's mom is out of control fabulous. i love it! it was so great to meet the two people that produced our peculiar phil. it all makes so much more sense now . . .

darrell shepherd and i played some songs at the wedding reception and that was nostalgic as well. we sang "your love is better than ice cream," (during the cake cutting) "L-O-V-E," "something," "dimming of the day" (the first dance) and "i'm a believer" as a fun afterthought. it was great to sing again and reminded me that i need to sing more down here. it's theraputic.

big phil and stephanie should be in ireland for the honeymoon by now. i hope they're having fun! i'm sure they are . . . no comment.

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Luke lives in a flower vase on my bookshelf. He's an oddly colored blue grey beta who i chose to love based on his irregular (think ugly) markings.

But Luke has had a hard run of it these last few months. When I moved home in November with the babies (cats), Luke remained with my roommates, one of whom repeated dumped way too much food into his house, and another who promptly renamed him Roger insisting that he responded to that name better. When I returned home at the end of December, Luke-Roger's home was filthy (although a third roommate had cleaned his bowl once already after the other dumped half Luke's food into it muddying up the water). The whole thing stunk to high heaven, and as the mother of this small fish, I had the responsibility of remedying this sour situation. Thankfully, KC agreed to help me.

As I finished washing the dishes in the sink, he agreed to dump Luke's water out in the bathtub and return the vase to me so I could clean it too. This of course requires scooping out Luke and putting him in temporary housing, usually a coffee mug or paper cup. KC returned to the kitchen with the stinky but empty vase, and I finished the last few plates clearing a sink in which to wash the dank glass. As I reached for the vase, I perused the counter for Luke. "KC, where'd you put Luke?" I asked as a wave of panic swept over me. "I left him on the ledge of the bathtub." He confidently responded. "You what?! The babies, they'll eat him! They can reach him there! Go get him!" Upon seeing the look of horror on my face, KC sprinted off the the bathroom as I hollared, "If that fish is dead, you're taking me to the pet store to buy me a new one!"

It was several minutes before KC returned. I washed out the dirty vase, trying not to gag at it's moldy, seaweed smell and shook my head at KC's naivite. Soon enough though KC returned with Luke in cup. KC's face seemed calm but shaken, and I asked what had happened. While we had been in the kitchen chatting, Radley indeed had spotted Luke sitting on the bathtub. He apparently batted at the cup until it was knocked off to the floor. KC said the cup was still sitting upright on the floor though all the water was gone. As he looked (striken with guilt) from the empty cup to the cat, he spotted Luke in between Radley's jaws. Without KC even having to say a word, Radley looked at him, also striken with guilt, and released the fish. KC grabbed the cup, filled it with water and scooped up the fish from the carpeted bathmat. Convinced the fish was surely dead, he studied it and strategized an appropriate apology. Lo and behold though, Luke did not float to the surface belly up, but rather came to his senses slowly wiggling his fins and opening his mouth, breathing heavily and slowly, but breathing nonetheless.

Now with a clean vase, KC and I studied Luke as we returned him to his home. He sat at the bottom of the vase for several hours - I suppose from shock or bruising,and then moved toward the surface of the water for several more hours after that. Was he sulking or just ill? One month later, I study Luke again. As crawled out of bed today, I said good morning to Luke who responded by wiggling his fins and flipping across his home appearing to grow larger and smaller as in a fun house mirror while he moved around the curved vase.

What a time poor Luke has had: from over-eating, to an identity crisis, to living in a slum, to being caught in the teeth of a hungry cat to experiencing post-traumatic stress syndrome to life again. Brave little Luke-Roger.

Friday, January 21, 2005

Not much to say, gotta admit. Grandma asks for more blog notes, but I've currently none to give. I started to apply for an English Teacher position at a local high school, but they were already well into the hiring process and its already gone. This Monday will be Phil's mysterious wedding which is stressing most of us out to the max. I just planned a damn bachelorette party with three bridesmaids one of whom i just found out yesterday is no longer in the wedding! what the hey? oh well. hopefully she'll still chip in on expenses. she better . . .

or what? or i'll buy a ticket to wherever she lives and go beat her up? i doubt it. I'm full of empty threats.

So the bachelorette party is Saturday evening. Crazy Carol flies in tomorrow morning. That'll be great since she's not seen any of the places I've lived in Austin, let alone my fabulous new apartment in which i currently live box-free!

Sunday is the rehearsal and dinner, Monday the soundcheck and wedding. I'm singing at the reception (including the song for the first dance) and just found out I'm praying in the wedding too. I heard that Bwack might be praying as well which amuses me. This spendid ex-boyfriend of mine (i'm being serious, not sarcastic) prayed out loud maybe once(?) during the year and a half we dated. He didn't even want to go to the Dove Awards last year. He hates attention, publicity and public speaking. But then again, he has to give the Best Man's toast, so maybe he's not so opposed to it as I think.

All in all, this weekend will be full of fun. And if it sucks, at least the Reception will have lots of wine. Long live Baccus.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

I applied for over three hours online today for a job at the Austin school district. Kill me now. There is a position open for an English teacher at Travis High School. I still need to get my resume to the principal there and get my references in, but I'm well on my way!

Other than applying for more steady jobs, I'm still getting settled into my totally fabulous apartment with Erin Davis, artist extroidinaire. I've had lots of help from a little scottishman named KC who does an amazing job of putting up with my sh*t. I hollared and cried and b*tched all weekend, but he took it well. Thank you KC. You're fabulous too.

Goodbye cyber world. I'm off the computer for now. four hours is long enough.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Christmas is over. Grandpa went into the hospital the Wednesday before. The Tsumani hit the day after. Strange holiday season. Amy and Joel spent Christmas with the Sager family. That left just Emily and I to sit on the steps leading to the downstairs goodies Christmas morning, but neither she nor I assumed the usual spot. Christmas was spent releiving grandma and cheering grandpa in Heartland East Hospital. Finally, christmas night i demanded that something be done that even slightly resembled Christmas even without Amy, Joel, Grandpa and Grandma. So we opened presents with the four remaining and that appeased my need for tradition somewhat.

The Christmas season proved to be much more disappointing for some than knowing my siblings were celebrating four hours away and my grandparents were eating hospital food instead of mother's turkey and gravy. The skidmore baby and father live without their mother and wife. Tsunami victims (those who survived) walk with their dead in their arms seeking more answers on where their other lovers and children might be found.

What if the Christ child had been swept out of the Madonna's arms by a wall of water that crashed over their bodies set so sweetly next to the shepherds? Maybe it was. What would it have felt like to see your beloved, perfect oldest son sagging off wooden beams, his flesh barely attached with metal stakes? Would it have seemed like drowning as the crowd took him away to flog and beat? Would she have screamed "no, God no!" as the roar of the crowd filled her mouth stifling her cries?

Did God feel like he was drowning? dying? when his Son died and few even cared?

How few of us care about the millions washed out to sea? How many of us will care nine months from now when our donation checks have been cashed and forgotten, and the devastating pictures no longer haunt our televisions?

Many many many. Hopefully. It seems so unreal. So like the "end times" thriller movies produced in hollywood. "Huge wave distroys the world! Can Tom Cruise save us?" And War of the Worlds is coming out in the theatres this year. Depressing. Remind me not to see that. The news on television is tragic enough. And its real.